Shadows of the Empire
by Georgia82
Summary: The Resistance find themselves deep in enemy territory as they look for a way to end the Sith and the First Order forever, and Poe finds himself entangled with a woman who might just change the fate of them all. My own ideas as to what follows TFA. Poe/OC.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars. I, in fact, own very little, so I hope the real owners don't mind me having a little fun with their creations.

Reviews are most welcome – but please be gentle. I do not have a beta reader, so please excuse any typos/mistakes. Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

Warning: Spoilers for The Force Awakens, so don't keep reading if you haven't seen the movie yet.

Chapter 1

Poe Dameron stood at the entrance to a deserted alley, making sure to keep himself hidden from sight. The man he was supposed to meet with, Nuary, was already fifteen minutes late, and with each passing minute, Poe grew exponentially more nervous. The sun was starting to set, and Poe wanted to start back toward the Resistance hideout before the planet's indigenous nighttime creatures came out. It was generally his practice to avoid the chance of being eaten alive if at all possible.

He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his black utility jacket to keep them still and resolved that he would only risk waiting a few more minutes before he would have to head back. He knew General Organa was counting on the maps Nuary planned to deliver, but Poe also knew he couldn't wait on the man forever. The blaster on his hip gave him some comfort, but the longer he waited the more scenarios he could think up for what might have gone wrong. Was it a trap? Would Nuary double-cross them? Did Nuary just take the half-payment he'd already received and never planned on delivering the maps? Could Nuary have been picked up by a street patrol and was at this very moment telling the First Order all about his rendezvous with Poe?

This is why Poe hated spy work. He was a pilot at heart, and he was at his best when he was in a cockpit. In the cockpit, Poe was the one in control. As Black Leader, he made the decisions. The covert missions the Resistance had been running lately were wearing on his nerves. General Organa was gathering pieces of a puzzle Poe couldn't see. It annoyed him that he was being moved around like a game piece yet he didn't have a high enough security clearance to know what the end-game was.

Worse still, General Organa's latest series of missions had led them deep into Imperial territory. One mistake was all it would take for them to be found out. And out here, everything was unfamiliar. The planets, the technology, the ships, the customs, and even some of the alien species he had never seen before. The Empire, now the First Order, had kept a stranglehold on these parts since before Poe was born, and he figured he and the small band of Resistance fighters were the first true outsiders to set foot in this part of the galaxy in a long time. He was out of his league (whether he would admit it or not), and he was afraid the Resistance had bitten off more than it could chew this time.

Poe had just decided to start the long trek back to the Resistance's hideout when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Nuary had just rounded the corner at the end of the block and was sauntering down the street as if he had all the time in the world. Nuary made a show of stopping to look in a few store windows, and Poe could feel his blood start to boil. Poe tried to check his irritation, and he took the opportunity to study the man as he approached. Nuary's species, the Grash, had a series of four, thin tentacles on each side of their faces. The tentacles closest to their chins were short, and each subsequent tentacle grew longer along the jawline. Other than that, the Nauskuat looked like any other human. Nuary had on a plain brown robe tied with a leather belt at the waist, which showed off his sizeable belly. All in all, Nuary looked unimpressive, and Poe figured that's what made the man perfect for this kind work.

Nuary casually walked to the entrance of the alley, looked around nonchalantly, and then quickly joined Poe in the cover of the alley.

"Do you have it?" Poe asked, sounding a little more curt than he had intended.

If Nuary minded Poe's curtness, he didn't show it. "Of course," he said, keeping his voice low. He reached into his dark brown robe and pulled out a small device. "You got the credits?"

Poe reached into his own dark jacket and pulled out a small leather satchel. Nuary casually took the satchel, placed the device in Poe's empty hand, and walked back out of the alley again without looking back.

The nervous knot in Poe's belly instantly melted as he gripped the device tighter. He examined the device and wondered if he should have had Nuary turn it on just to make sure it held the maps they needed.

He waited in the alley for a few more minutes so it didn't look like he and Nuary left at the same time, and then he peered around the corner into the street, looking for street patrols. Before coming to the Imperial territory, he often wondered why anyone would be loyal to the Empire or to the First Order. He know knew that constant surveillance and intimidation kept most of their population in check. On every Imperial world they'd been to so far, the First Order was always watching – security cameras, droid surveillance, foot patrols. Total and complete control.

When he saw that the street was empty of patrols, he stepped out of the alley and started walking in the opposite direction of the Resistance hideout, just in case he was being watched. He would double-back and circle around later. The planet, Scaros, had only a small spaceport, which meant that it was less advanced than any of the other planets they had visited in the Imperial territory. It also meant that the First Order's presence was lighter as well, which was a welcome respite for the Resistance. General Organa had them set up a semi-permanent hideout, so Poe figured they might be on Scaros for some time. Not that he minded. He was bone tired, and he felt he and his men could use a little rest.

But the missions and the constant stress of being deep in enemy territory were not the only things making Poe tired. He hadn't been sleeping that well lately. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he'd been suffering nightmares ever since Kylo Ren's "interrogation." He was afraid of what the dark Jedi might have done to his mind, afraid that the nightmares were signs or traces of something more serious, and so he chose to ignore it and keep pushing forward. He got a few hours of sleep every night, and there was plenty to keep him busy anyway.

A loud, grating noise caught his attention. Poe tensed and looked quickly for cover. He wondered if it was one of the surveillance droids the General had warned him about. He had just ducked behind a large sign standing outside a vacant droid repair shop, when he saw the source of the noise.

A woman was pushing what appeared to be a malfunctioning hovercraft down the street. The hovercraft looked as if it were full of fresh foods from the market. Poe guessed the woman had been shopping and was on her way home when the craft broke down. He watched as the woman pushed with all her strength, which was barely enough to move the hovercraft forward a few inches. He couldn't see much of her behind the craft, but her face was red from overexertion. He felt the need to help her, but was conflicted. He had incredibly sensitive information – information that he needed to get back safely to General Organa. The woman could very well be a loyal citizen of the First Order and would happily turn him over if she suspected he was with the Resistance. Plus, he simply didn't have the time to help her. The sun was about to set. It would be pitch black soon, and he had a long, and dangerous, trek back to the Resistance hideout.

It was thoughts of the coming darkness that finally compelled him out from behind the droid repair sign. He wouldn't feel right leaving her pushing that thing home in the dark.

"Need some help?" he asked, trying to appear friendly. He certainly didn't want to set off any alarms.

The woman jumped slightly. She clearly had not noticed him at all. She glanced at his face for a moment and then focused again on the hovercraft. "No, thank you. I can manage." Her Imperial accent was thick, which instantly made him regret his offer to help. He figured he was now offering aid to devoted citizen of the First Order.

She ignored him and continued to push the hovercraft. Against his better judgment, Poe offered again, "You look like you aren't making much progress." He tried to keep the smirk from his face, but he felt the edges of his mouth twitch up slightly.

"I'll be fine. I don't have much further to go." She gestured to the end of the block. "I'm just headed to the cantina at the end of the street." She pushed again.

"In that case, why don't you let me help you?" Poe circled around to her side of the hovercraft. The woman backed away and looked worriedly down the street. Poe put both hands on the disabled craft and gave it a big push. He was able to keep the craft moving steadily forward, but he was surprised at its weight. Glancing quickly at the woman next to him, he noticed that she was quite small. He guessed she was barely over 5 feet tall, and she looked frail-thin to him. He wondered how she'd had the strength to push the hovercraft at all.

After a few moments of silence, the woman spoke first. "I think it's the dampener. It's been acting funny for a few days now, and I guess it finally gave out." She spoke nervously, and Poe again wondered if he had made the right decision. "Thank you, by the way," the woman added. "I'm not sure if I would have made it much farther myself." She smiled softly at him, and Poe just nodded back as he continued pushing.

He took a moment to evaluate her to see if there was anything he should be worried about. Her hair was silvery blonde, a color he was not used to seeing – another peculiarity of the peoples within the Imperial territory. She had it pulled back in a loose plait, and several strands had broken free during her struggle with the disabled craft. He had glimpsed her eyes once, and they were a clear, gray-blue color. She was pretty, but he'd probably call her features average.

The woman stayed quiet beside him, and he was afraid to speak lest he give something away. He examined her clothes to see if she had any markings of the First Order. There was a thick, metal choker around her neck. He'd seen it on a few others since they'd been in the Imperial territory, so he figured it must be a popular Imperial style necklace. Her thick black boots, nearly knee high, were reminiscent of the combat boots most of the recruits wore in the Resistance. She had on a faded green, asymmetrical skirt with an off-white trim. The matching faded green vest she was wearing looked like it was made out thin, worn cloth. One side had a short sleeve, the other no sleeve at all. The exposed arm had a few strange symbols running down to her elbow. All in all, the woman looked small and plain, and he doubted she had any connection to the First Order at all.

Finally, they reached a side-entrance to the cantina. "Here is fine," the woman said. Poe thought he could sense a little tension in her voice.

"Are you sure? I can push it all the way in."

"No need. I can take it from here." The woman smiled kindly, but avoided his eyes. "Thank you again. I'm sure I would have been in trouble if I had been gone much longer."

Poe wasn't sure what else to say, so he just said, "I'm glad I could help." Something about her behavior struck him as off, but he couldn't risk asking more. "So long," he said as he gave a small wave and started walking away.

The woman turned back to the cantina and opened the side door. As Poe neared the droid repair shop again, he could hear a man shouting from the cantina, "Where have you been? I knew I should have sent a droid instead! You get in here right now before I…" the cantina door slammed closed again, and Poe was unable to hear the last of the man's threats.

He felt a twinge of guilt, leaving her to her fate, but he forced his mind to quickly change gears again. He needed to focus on getting safely back to the Resistance hideout without being tailed, and now that the sun had finally set, without being eaten.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars. I, in fact, own very little, so I hope the real owners don't mind me having a little fun with their creations.

As always, reviews are most welcome – but please be gentle. I do not have a beta reader, so please excuse any typos/mistakes. Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 2

Schala Fehr glanced down again at the digital map device she held in her palm, and then eyed the nearby shop signs to see if she could figure out where she was. She was not permitted out of the trade district very often, so she was unfamiliar with the tech district of the city. And, it was rapidly become clear to her, the map Quilp had given her was outdated, meaning she was completely lost. The cantina owner had barked at her to go get a part to repair the hovercraft, had shoved the map device in her hand, and abruptly thrust her out the door. Normally, she welcomed any chance to spend the day away from the cantina and its owner, Quilp, but being lost in the tech district wasn't very appealing either.

There were shops where her map said streets were supposed to be, streets that didn't appear on her map at all, and several turns she tried to make stopped at dead ends. At this point, she'd be lucky to make it back to the cantina, much less find the shop she was looking for. To make matters worse, coming back late last night, with a broken hovercraft no less, had put Quilp in a foul mood. If she came back late again today and with no part, she'd get it for sure.

She was about to give up her search and try to find her way back to the cantina, when she spotted a First Order MO-18 model surveillance droid heading her direction. She motioned to the droid, and it started making its way over to her. The way the MO-18 droids slowly hovered with dozens of thin antennae dangling, always circling, always watching, normally set her on edge, but this was one time she was actually glad the First Order kept an eye on everything.

"Yes, citizen?" the droid's tinny voice asked in Basic.

"My map is a bit outdated. I'm wondering if you might be able to update it. I'm trying to find Perl's Salvage Yard."

A small appendage shot out of the droid, and Schala quickly plugged in her map. When the device beeped after a few moments, Schala knew the update was complete. She detached it from the droid and immediately started scanning for Perl's Salvage Yard.

"I have marked Perl's Salvage Yard on you map," the MO-18 droid droned. "You may proceed to your destination." The MO-18 continued on its surveillance route without another word.

Schala was glad to be rid of the droid and even happier that her map was now updated and correct. She spared no time in hurrying to the salvage yard.

As she came upon Perl's Salvage Yard, her first thought was that it looked like a dump. Her second thought was that it was no wonder that Quilp had sent her there. The cantina owner was a notorious cheapskate, and he certainly didn't care about quality if he could get a bargain part at a bargain price. The front of the yard looked like a graveyard for anything mechanical. There were half-scavenged droids, hovercrafts, speeders and plenty of other things Schala couldn't even begin to identify. She walked past the jumble of parts and headed towards the yard's sole building.

She saw that even the door was not safe from being used for scrap – it was in pieces and barely attached to the hinges. She stepped inside and looked around. There were several aisles with waist-high bins full of miscellaneous parts. Several customers were rummaging through the containers now. She wondered how anyone could find what they were looking for because she doubted the parts were organized in any way.

As Schala headed to the back counter, she placed the map device in her vest pocket and pulled out a small leather satchel with the units Quilp had given her to pay for the part. She was relieved to find that Perl happened to be a rather large, female Iskaal. The Iskaal were a diminutive humanoid species with pronounced jowls on their faces and bright, almond-shaped eyes. They were known for their voracious appetites, and so most Iskaal were rather portly.

Schala reached the counter and waited for Perl to acknowledge her before she spoke. "I'm looking for a small thruster that would work in a FT-495 hovercraft."

"Let's see what we've got," Perl said as she walked back to the bins behind the counter. Schala watched as the woman pulled out one bin, rummaged around, found nothing and then pulled out another. Schala sincerely doubted that Perl could find anything among the jumble, but she waited patiently for the shopkeeper, who happened to find what she was looking for in the fifth bin.

The Iskaal waddled back to the counter. "This should do just fine. You'll have to make a few modifications to make it fit right, but you most likely won't find anything that works better. The FT models are old hovercrafts. You'd be better off replacing it than fixing it." She motioned behind her, "I've got some of the new models out back if you'd like to take a look?"

Schala couldn't help but smirk. "That won't be necessary. I don't think Quilp Kur will be buying a new hovercraft anytime soon."

Perl barked out a laugh. "Oh, you work for that miser, Quilp, then?" Schala nodded. "He still running that dingy cantina? What was that place called again?" Perl put a hand to her forehead, trying to coax the name from memory.

"The Ark," Schala offered.

"The Ark! That's right." Perl chuckled softly. "I haven't been there in forever. He still serving that watered down yapring? That man used to keep it so watered down, you'd have to drink three times as much as normal before you'd even start to feel drunk." She paused and thought to herself for a moment. "And that wanker charges twice as much as most places, right?" Perl laughed again, and Schala couldn't help but join her.

Perl put the thruster on the counter. "I won't keep you longer by chatting too much with you. I bet he's a rather inpatient man to work for, and I'm sure you're itching to get back before he throws a hissy. It's 450 units for the thruster."

Schala's face fell as she looked into her satchel. "Any chance you could make it 400?" She gave Perl an apologetic look. "That's all Quilp gave me," she shrugged and looked hopefully at Perl.

Perl was quiet for a moment as she studied Schala. "Oh, I suppose. It'd be useless to try to squeeze one more unit from that man. Give me your 400." Perl tried to sound irritated, but she grinned at Schala anyway.

Schala quickly laid all her units on the counter, snatched the thruster and secured it safely in her satchel. "You're a lifesaver! Thank you so much!"

"Now you run along back to Quilp before he has your head!" Perl winked at her.

As Schala walked toward the entrance, she watched Perl head over to two men, who Schala noticed had been there since before she arrived. They had been combing through the bins, no doubt looking for a specific part. She could hear Perl ask them if she could help find what they were looking for, but her ears stopped working the moment she caught sight of one of the men.

Schala didn't get a real good look before he turned his back, but she was almost certain it was the man from the night before – the one who had helped her with the hovercraft. She stopped where she was and pretended to look through the container in front of her, but her gaze was fixed on the man's back, willing him to turn just a little so she could see his face.

This man was wearing a rust and sand colored flight jacket with dark pants; the man last night had been clad entirely in black. The man in front of her, though, had the same dark, thick waves of hair as the man from last night.

If she was being honest, she had thought quite a bit about him. She wasn't sure what to make of him. His behavior was odd, but she couldn't figure out what exactly was out-of-place about him. He had been kind enough to help her, which was in his favor, but he didn't try to make much conversation with her either, which she took to mean he wasn't interested. She thought he was very good looking, dangerously so even, but he probably thought what most men thought about her – that she was small and plain – and then he probably never thought about her again.

The man turned slightly, and Schala saw his profile and was able to confirm it was in fact the man from last night. She allowed herself a moment to daydream about what would happen if she just went over there. She could say she recognized him from last night, wanted to thank him and introduce herself. In her daydream, he was happy to see her again, she would say something witty and he would be charming, and then he would offer to walk her back to the cantina. She knew she'd never have enough guts to actually go over there though, so she just sighed and told herself to keep dreaming.

As she walked past the broken door, she pulled out her map device and started typing in the coordinates for the cantina. If she hurried back and had no problems, she could probably make it back before Quilp had expected her. Even if he wouldn't be impressed with her timeliness, at least she'd been able to complete this errand successfully, which would save her from getting an earful.

She had barely made it down the street when she heard a man's voice calling behind her, "Miss! Hey, miss! Wait up!"

Schala turned to see who was behind her and had to keep her mouth from gaping open. The man from last night and his companion were headed quickly in her direction. She had the sudden urge to bolt, to take off running and never look back, but instead she stood frozen. As they slowed to a stop in front of her, she realized that they wanted to talk to her. She just had no idea why.

"It's you!" the man from before said, surprised. "Last night – with the broken hovercraft?" The man turned his warm brown eyes on her, and Schala saw that he was even more handsome up close and in daylight. Suddenly she couldn't seem to find her voice, so she merely nodded.

"I'm glad to see that you're okay. It kind of sounded like you were in a lot of trouble last night." He sounded genuinely concerned, and Schala could feel heat rise to her cheeks. The other man from the shop took a few steps back as if to give them room to talk.

She willed herself to say something clever, like in her daydream, but her brain would not cooperate. "Thank you…for your help last night," she worried she sounded like she was stammering, so she softly cleared her throat, "…and thank you for stopping to check on me. I'm fine, as you can see. Thank you." Schala could not believe she just said thank you three times in a row. Since the ground was not likely to swallow her up, she figured it was time for her to go and she headed off again.

"No, please wait," the man said, stopping her.

Schala turned back, a quizzical look on her face. Could her daydream possibly be coming true right now? Did he want to talk with her? Introduce himself?

The man from last night asked, "Did you just come from Perl's shop?" His warm brown eyes found hers again, and her stomach did a little flip.

She couldn't believe this was really happening right now, and she found it hard to focus. A simple, "Yes," was all she could muster. At least she was able to form a one syllable sentence. Had he seen her in the shop and followed her out? Was it possible that he was actually interested in her?

The man from the night before put a hand to the back of his neck. "Did you by any chance buy a thruster while you were there?"

The unusual question brought Schala rapidly back to reality. She responded with a hesitant, "Yes," because she was not quite sure what else to do.

The man looked apologetically at her. "The thing is, my friend and I also need that thruster. Perl said she sold the last one she had to you. Any chance you'd be willing to sell it to us?"

Schala suddenly realized what was going on here. He wasn't interest in her. He'd been surprised that he had recognized her, for sure, but it wouldn't have matter who she was. He was after the thruster. She wasn't sure she'd ever felt smaller or more stupid in her life.

Schala came to her senses as if she'd been slapped. "I'm sorry. I can't." She took some satisfaction that she could make him a fraction as disappointed as she felt.

The man frowned. "The thing is, we're in a really tight spot here, and you may just have the last truncated thruster in the city." He took a step closer to her. "Any chance I could change your mind?" He said the last part rather softly and gave Schala a persuasive look.

She couldn't believe it – was he trying to flirt with her, manipulate her into giving up the thruster? Before, all she could think was that he had one of those dark and handsome faces she had always dreamed about. But now, she thought he just looked proud and arrogant. He thought he could just turn on the charm, and she'd melt? The fact that she had been practically melting over him moments ago no longer mattered at this point.

Schala's blood began to boil. He wasn't interested in her at all, just in getting what he wanted. Schala shook her head. "You don't understand. I can't…"

The man interrupted her. "Whatever it is, I'm sure we can work it out." He smiled at her. "If it's about the units, we'll double whatever you paid for it."

"No, it's not about the units," she didn't try to hide the irritation from her voice. "My employer sent me out here to get the thruster. I can't go back without it, especially now I know there's no chance I'll find another one." She started to walk away. "I'm sorry, but I really can't help you, and I have to be getting back."

The man stopped her by placing a hand on her shoulder, and Schala was disappointed that her traitorous body grew warm under his touch. She looked back and met his eyes as boldly as she could. But his deep, dark eyes pleaded with her. "We really need that part," he said softly.

Schala wasn't sure what to do. She knew there was no way she could show up at the cantina without the part, but she also couldn't help but feel guilty. She knew she shouldn't trust him, she knew he was playing her, but she couldn't help but be a little swayed by his plea. He sounded sincere.

Both men were still standing there, just watching her. Against her better judgment, she said, "I may have an idea that can get us both what we want."

"I'm listening," the man said in a hopeful tone.

The wheels turned in Schala's mind as she spoke. "I need to take the part with me back to the cantina. But the owner, Quilp, is a greedy man. I'm sure you can buy the part off of him. That way I get credit for bringing the part back, but in the end you'll have it."

The man from last night shot her a dazzling smile, and Schala had to remind herself that he was just using his good looks to charm her.

Before she could stop herself, she added, "If he thinks you're really interested in the part though, he'll likely gouge you on the price." She raised an eyebrow as she thought out loud, "It might be better if you say you're interested in the hovercraft instead. He'll think he's taking advantage of you by selling you a piece of junk that's liable to break down at any moment. You'll probably have an easier chance dealing with him that way, and it might even save you some units."

"That's a great idea. Thanks," the man said. Schala wondered if they should shake hands or something to close the deal, but she didn't think touching him again would be a good idea.

"Just make sure you come later tonight. That'll give him enough time to put the thruster in the hovercraft. You don't' want to offer to buy it until it actually has the part you're looking for."

"Will do. Thanks again," he shot her another smile.

"Well, you helped me last night, and so I've returned the favor. Now we're even," she said as she began to walk away.

"Uhh…what's your name?" the man asked. "So I can ask for you tonight."

"Schala," she said, before she could stop herself. "But don't mention me when you get there. Quilp makes all the deals, and it'll go better if we act like we've never met."

"Well, thank you, Schala. I don't think you realize how much you just helped us." She just nodded and walked away.

Schala didn't even look at her map device to see if she was headed in the right direction. She just wanted to put some distance between her and the men, because she had a bad feeling about what she had just done. She couldn't believe that she had just invited that man to the cantina tonight. She didn't know a thing about him, wasn't sure if she could trust him, and she didn't even know his name.

She could tell even last night that something was off about him, and she'd just brought that trouble to her doorstep. She hadn't been thinking clearly in the moment, but now one very big question popped into her mind. What did they need a thruster so desperately for? What had he been doing down her street last night? She was sure there was more to the story, and she was also sure she didn't want anything to do with it. Good looking man or not, she sincerely hoped she wouldn't see him again at the cantina that night.

A/N: Thank you for the kind reviews! I am so glad there are a few enjoying the story!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars. I, in fact, own very little, so I hope the real owners don't mind me having a little fun with their creations.

As always, reviews are most welcome – but please be gentle. Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 3

"Please tell me that pilots do know the difference between a thruster and a hovercraft, Commander."

"Very funny, Tupper," Poe answered sardonically as he finished steering the hovercraft to the mechanic's workbench. "The thruster you need is _in_ the hovercraft, and before you ask, I had to get the hovercraft to get the thruster." When Tupper shot him a quizzical look, Poe raised an eyebrow. "Don't ask. It's a long story."

"Well, General Organa might be interested in a long story. She was starting to get worried that something might've gone wrong." Tupper gripped a tool in his hand, eager to tear-up the hovercraft it seemed.

"I'll make sure to check-in with the General. Things didn't go quite as planned, but at least I got you guys the part. Any idea when the transport ship will be running again?"

Tupper looked up as if searching the air for an answer. "In theory, I can retrofit the thruster and have it running again tomorrow. In reality, the transport is an outdated piece of scrap. It's the best we've got, but it still might take a lot more work to get it skyward again."

"Good thing the Resistance has the best techs in the galaxy, my friend." Poe shot Tupper his most confident smile and slapped the man on the back.

"You're right, Commander. If anyone can get that transport flying again, it'll be us." Tupper turned from Poe and focused his attention on removing the thruster from the hovercraft.

Poe kept the confident look on his face until he left Tupper, but his face fell into a troubled look as soon as the coast was clear. General Organa wouldn't be happy until that transport was up and running, and Poe didn't know what else he could do to make that happen. The Resistance's own spacecraft were easily recognizable in this part of the galaxy and would be spotted and no doubt shot down in moments. They needed a makeshift fleet to better travel within the First Order's territory, but so far hadn't had much luck with acquiring any truly useful spacecraft. Junk was about all they could afford without garnering suspicion. Up until now, the Resistance had been relying on commercial transports to go from planet to planet, but it was risky each time and grew riskier the further away they traveled. Poe wasn't sure how much longer the rag-tag team of Resistance fighters could survive in enemy territory if things didn't start going their way.

He briefly contemplated walking to the mess to grab a quick bite to eat, but he was so exhausted he didn't think it was worth the effort. Instead, he headed toward his bunk. The Resistance had been lucky enough to find just at the outskirts of the town a mountain with hundreds of tunnels and multiple exits, which recommended it highly as a prime spot for the Resistance to set up base. The tunnels opened up into caves of differing sizes, and the Resistance used each cave as a different "room" within the base: bunk rooms, mess hall, hangar bays, weapons, central command, and more. A dense forest surrounded the mountain and provided even more cover. Poe vaguely remembered some of the Resistance techs explaining that the mountain was made out of some mineral that effectively cloaked the signatures from all their equipment. He had pretty much stopped listening the moment the techs started talking, so he couldn't recall exactly. Early on, General Organa had said that the caves reminded her of the Rebel base on Hoth, minus the frigid temperatures of course.

Poe was quickly learning the layout of the base and very rarely chose the wrong tunnels anymore. He hurriedly navigated the tunnel system and shed his jacket the moment he entered his bunk, leaving it crumpled on the floor. As an officer, he had a small, but private, cave to himself, and he relished his first chance of true privacy that day. He forcefully sat down on his cot and kicked off his shoes. He pulled his long-sleeved shirt over his head in one swift move and tossed the shirt to join his jacket.

Poe stretched out on his cot and stared at the ceiling. He was so exhausted, so ready for sleep, yet he tensed the moment he laid down. He would never say it out loud, but he was actually nervous to fall asleep. Ever since his run-in with Kylo Ren, Poe had been having nightmares. Or maybe night terrors were a better description. He would fall asleep, only it wouldn't be sleep. It would be darkness and silent agony. Sometimes he would see the metal face of the Sith knight. Other times it was just the disembodied, metallic voice. One thing that was always constant was the pain, the intrusion in his mind, his very thoughts being forcibly ripped out. It was like Ren's interrogation had infected Poe's mind and the dark Jedi was still there with him, extracting bits of Poe every night.

To calm his mind, he focused on the details of the day, and how he would explain what happened to General Organa. After running after Schala outside of Perl's shop, Poe had taken her advice and waited until nightfall before he arrived at the cantina. He had walked right up to Quilp, fed him some lame line about how he was interested in the hovercraft and made him an offer for it. The sleaze ball Quilp had haggled with him as if the hovercraft were actually valuable, and Poe was forced to play the part of the dim but interested buyer. Poe knew the hovercraft was practically worthless, yet he had allowed Quilp to take the lead, hopeful it would make negotiations go smoothly and quickly. He had to bite his tongue the whole time, but in the end, it had worked rather well, as Schala had predicted. Poe had waited for a few minutes after the sale looking for her and was sorry that he wasn't able to find her in the crowd, to at least give her a nod in acknowledgment if nothing else.

To tell the truth, he felt pretty rotten about the way he'd acted yesterday. He had noticed the way Schala had blushed slightly when he was talking to her, took it to mean that she found him attractive and he had used it against her to his own advantage. It felt underhanded, and Poe didn't like the way that felt. It was another reason he longed to get back in the pilot's seat and away from these covert missions. He was honest Poe Dameron when he was in the skies – talented and fearless. But since the Resistance had entered First Order territory and he'd been grounded for these covert missions, he'd done nothing but lie, hide the truth and manipulate. He knew it was necessary, but he also knew it wasn't him.

Poe was too tired though, and he couldn't fight his exhaustion for long. He wasn't sure the moment he closed his eyes, but he did know the moment he felt Kylo Ren's presence in his mind. It was the same darkness, the same torment as so many nights before. Poe tried to fight it, but he couldn't make the pain stop and he couldn't force himself to wake up.

He resigned himself to another night of having to repeat the violation of Ren, when in his mind, he saw a pinprick of a light. Suddenly, it was as if the oppression of Kylo Ren was lifted. Intrigued, Poe willed his consciousness forward. As he approached the light grew larger, and then it was as if the light transported him to a wide-open space. He knew it was a dream, but the place so emanated peace that Poe didn't want to leave. He looked around and saw that he was high atop some kind of stone ruins. Looking to the horizon, he saw a vast lushness spread out as far as he could see. The sunlight shone down on him, golden and warm. It almost felt as if his mind were healing itself in this place – as if the wounds left by Ren were slowly binding up.

Poe's attention was drawn to a woman in a meditative pose at the edge of the ruins. Her back was turned to him so he couldn't see her face. She was perfectly still, as if communing with the nature around her. As the wind gently blew the woman's hair around, Poe noticed the silvery blonde strands were just like Schala's. He took a step forward to approach the woman, when from behind him came the menacing form of Kylo Ren. Poe tensed immediately, but the dark Jedi walked right past him towards the woman. Ren activated his lightsaber, and the warm, golden light of the moment was drenched in red. Poe could hear the unstable crackle of the crossbars. Ren did not hesitate as he moved forward, and as he moved he arched his saber high. Poe realized that the woman was the target and he tried to move or shout, but he was merely a spectator in this dream. He watched in horror as Ren's blade came down upon the unsuspecting woman.

As soon as the blade made contact Poe shot awake, instantly sitting up in his cot. His breathing was ragged, and Poe took a few deeps breaths to calm his heart. "What the heck was that?" he said aloud to no one but himself.

A/N: Thank you again for the reviews! Hopefully you will continue to enjoy the story!


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars. I, in fact, own very little, so I hope the real owners don't mind me having a little fun with their creations.

As always, reviews are most welcome – but please be gentle. Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 4

"So…who's the guy you were hiding from tonight?" Rizy asked as she and Schala finished busing the last tables at the cantina.

Schala tried to keep her voice calm and said a simple, "What?" Of course, she knew exactly who Rizy was talking about. She quickly put the last of the dirty dishes on her tray and started heading back towards the kitchen so Rizy wouldn't see the small blush pricking her cheeks.

Rizy shot an unbelieving look at Schala's back as she followed. "Dark skin, dark hair, dark eyes – dangerous smile." A huge grin broke on Rizy's face as she moved in front of Schala and held open the kitchen door. "You hid from him in the kitchen all night and didn't come out until he left."

Schala smirked as she met the eyes of her Twi'lek friend, and she continued into the kitchen past Rizy. "I wasn't hiding from anyone," she said, trying to sound indignant.

Rizy chuckled as she and Schala dumped the last of the dirty dishes into the sanitizer. "It sure looked like hiding to me!"

Schala cleared her throat and tried to look neutral. "Well, it wasn't. If you're talking about that guy with the dark jacket that bought the hovercraft from Quilp…I've seen him out in the street maybe once before, but I don't _know_ him know him. So I wasn't avoiding him – there's just no reason for me to talk to him," she said, keeping her tone light. "It's not worth Quilp getting on my case for talking on the job to say hi to someone who's practically a stranger." It was a pretty good explanation, and Schala almost believed it herself. Almost anyway.

She certainly didn't want Rizy to know that she had, in fact, spent the entire day rehearsing what she's say to him when he came in. Schala's initial plan was to play it cool and disinterested, to pretend to be too busy to give him her full attention. That way she could talk to him briefly, but not long enough to make herself look like a blushing, stammering fool. However, when Schala was practicing in the mirror, she thought she looked more confused than cool, so she went with "Plan B" and decided to hide from him instead.

Rizy raised an eyebrow. "If you've only ever seen him once, how come he waited around looking for you?"

Schala had wondered herself why he didn't leave immediately after buying the hovercraft, but she doubted it had anything to do with her. "He wasn't looking for me."

"Oh, yes he was! He was waiting for you, I know it!"

"Shh! Keep your voice down!" Schala looked around the kitchen to make sure they were alone. A droid working at the sanitizer was their only audience.

"Rizy," Schala met her friend's eyes again, "there's nothing going on. I've talked to him once, maybe twice, that's all. I don't even know his name. " Schala hoped she didn't sound as disappointed as she felt.

Rizy's lip curled into a suspicious smirk. "Maybe he's stalking you then! He seemed pretty interested for someone you've only talked to once, maybe twice."

Schala barked a quick laugh. "Stalking me? Are you being serious? Why would he stalk me?"

"Why would someone buy that piece of junk hovercraft from Quilp? I bet it was just an excuse to come in and see you! He went to all that trouble and you wound up hiding from the poor guy all night." Rizy was clearly very amused at her friend's expense. "If he comes back again tomorrow, we'll know for sure he's after you!" Rizy put her hands up like claws to illustrate her point.

Schala was afraid Rizy was getting closer to the truth, so she tried to end the conversation. "Thanks for the concern, but I think I'm safe for now. Honestly, I doubt I'll ever see him again." The words actually hurt her to say, and she really didn't want them to be true. Her brief encounters with the man, though a bit irregular, also brought a tiny bit of excitement into her life, and now it seemed she was back to her dull, monotonous routine.

Rizy took Schala's cue and changed the subject, "You want to grab something to eat real quick, Schala?"

Schala shook her head. "Nah, I'm actually pretty tired. I think I'm just going to head to bed."

"Okay, good night then."

"Good night, Rizy."

Schala headed up the narrow set of stairs at the back of the kitchen, which lead to the bedrooms for the live-in workers. Schala's room was at the end of the dark, grimy corridor and was the smallest room of them all.

She began untying her apron and had it off just as she entered her room, pushing the door closed with her foot. Schala folded her apron and laid it gently on the small chest in her room. She slipped off her shoes and sat at the edge of her bed, tired but her mind was still going too fast for sleep at the moment. She glanced around her sparse room. Aside from the shabby bed and worn chest, the only other furniture in the room was a tiny dressing table with an even tinier mirror and a wobbly chair with one leg shorter than the other three. It wasn't much, but it had been home to Schala for the past 8 years.

She got up and walked over to a creaky floorboard near her chest. She knelt down and carefully wiggled the loose board until it came out. She reached into the opening a brought out a little box – her keepsake box. It held a few small belongings from her childhood that she had managed to keep with her all these years. She opened the lid to the box and pulled out a hologram. It was a picture of her with her parents – all smiling, all happy. No idea what would soon be in store for them. She would sometimes talk to picture as if she were talking to her parents and they could somehow listen. She had nothing to report to them today though, because she doubted they wanted to hear about her hiding from an attractive man in the kitchen.

She gingerly placed the hologram down and pulled out her mother's bracelet. She had always admired it as a child, and she was grateful that she could count it as one of her own very few real possessions. Beautifully made, it was onyx black with symbols and engravings on it she didn't understand. Schala put the bracelet on her own wrist and again marveled at how cold it was. Whatever material it was made out of, it was always ice cold, as if nothing could ever warm it. She still wondered why her mother had chosen to wear a bracelet that would chill her arm, but her mother had loved it and so Schala loved it now too.

Her mother hadn't been wearing the bracelet on the day she died. The events of that day were still jumbled in Schala's mind, but she remembered running into her mother's room to grab the bracelet before fleeing with her father. There was only time to grab a few things, and she couldn't remember why it was suddenly so important to her at that time, but she wouldn't leave without her mother's bracelet.

She had a few other keepsakes in her box, reminders of the past, but she didn't have the heart to look at them all tonight. She took off her mother's bracelet and gingerly placed it and the hologram back into the box and then sealed the box beneath the floorboards again. If she dwelled too much in the past, the dark thoughts would likely disturb her dreams.

She quickly undressed and put on her sleepshirt before crawling into bed. She took a few deep, calming breaths to clear her mind, and thankfully sleep came quickly. However, she had fitful dreams that night. She was aware that she was tossing and turning, but she never fully broke from her sleep. When she finally shot awake in her bed in the early hours of the morning, her heart was pounding against her chest. She kept her head on the pillow and stared up at the ceiling not blinking. She couldn't remember a thing about her dreams, but her racing heart told her they weren't cheery.

Her shoulders were so tense she knew she wouldn't be able to relax into sleep again, and she decided it would be best to go ahead and start her day. There was certainly plenty to do. As she quickly dressed in the dark, she secretly hoped Quilp had an errand for her to run outside the cantina today. Even though she knew her chances of ever seeing the man again were slim, she couldn't help but smile at the possibility.

A/N: Thank you to all the reviewers and followers! I appreciate you all!


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars. I, in fact, own very little, so I hope the real owners don't mind me having a little fun with their creations.

As always, reviews are most welcome – but please be gentle. Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 5

"You can't tell me you don't wonder sometimes too."

"Wonder about what?" Poe asked as he sat down at a table in what served as the mess hall of the Resistance's hideout. Vivi Decai, a Resistance pilot under Poe's command, was having an animated conversation with a med tech, and Poe had arrived in the middle of it.

Vivi raised an eyebrow. "About Luke Skywalker."

Poe shot her a quizzical look as he plunged a fork in his mouth. "What about Luke Skywalker?" he asked between chews.

"You know," she motioned with a open hand like Poe should be able to fill in the blank.

He mimicked the motion back to her, "What?"

Vivi rolled her eyes. "Like you've never thought about it."

Poe looked across the table to the med tech, Ensign Dowes, who just shook his head as if warning Poe to drop it. Poe instead put down his fork and looked Vivi directly in the eye. "Out with it, Decai."

"Come on. The guy has been in hiding for years - completely alone. We find him, and suddenly he's getting secret instructions from the ghost of Obi-Wan Kenobi?" her tone dripped with sarcasm.

Poe motioned again. "So..."

"So, why now? Why all of a sudden? Why not before? Warn us about Starkiller or something? Don't you wonder if he's actually talking with Kenobi?" She paused and then leaned in closer and lowered her voice. "What if years of self-imposed exile was too much of a strain on him? What if he just thinks he's hearing voices."

Vivi stopped and waited for a reaction from Poe. When he remained silent, she continued, "No one in command has ever told us what Kenobi told Skywalker or what we are really doing out here. We've been following the instructions of a Force-ghost, given to a man who's been isolated for years. We've been going from planet to planet and it all seems random...like there is no plan at all." She paused for a moment of dramatic effect. "Aren't you just a little bit worried that we followed a mad man deep into enemy territory."

Poe picked up his fork again and moved his eyes down to his plate. Without looking up, he spoke in a calm tone, "I don't want you saying things like that again, especially not while we're mid-mission. You have doubts, you bring them to me - in private - and we can talk about them then." Poe raised his eyes to Vivi as he finished. A wave of fatigue hit him, lack of sleep and the weariness of being on edge for so long, but he made sure to firmly hold her gaze.

"Yes, sir," Vivi said, looking quite chastised.

There was an awkward silence between the three until Tupper slammed his tray on the table and loudly pulled out the chair next to Poe. "I finally got that thruster out of the hovercraft, Commander. Next step is to retrofit it to the transport. With any luck, we'll have a working Imperial-style transport shortly." Tupper, unaware of the tense exchange moments before, began heartily eating his meal. "But the rest of that hovercraft is junk. I had to shove it into a corner until I have time to see if anything else is worth salvaging. Boy was that thing heavy to push!" He huffed as he bit off a piece of bread.

Tupper's demeanor somewhat broke the tension, so Poe resumed eating as well. "The woman who used it before would agree with you. Schala had a heck of a time trying to push that thing to the Ark the other night."

"Did you say Schala?" The four of them froze as a voice rang out across the room.

Poe slowly turned around to see Luke Skywalker sitting by himself in the far corner. Poe's stomach dropped as he wondered how long Luke had been there, and if he had heard the earlier conversation with Vivi. Luke was staring intently at Poe, but said nothing more.

Poe rose from his chair and began walking toward Luke. "Yes, sir. Schala is the name of the woman I got the thruster from the other day." Luke's gaze stayed locked on Poe, but he didn't move or get up. When he reached the table Luke was sitting at, Poe remained standing, waiting to see what Skywalker would say next.

Luke closed his eyes for a moment - Poe assumed to commune with the Force - and then rose abruptly, startling Poe. "Bring her here," was all he said as he left the mess hall.

Poe stood in place watching Luke leave, and Vivi's question rang in his mind. Aren't you just a little bit worried that we followed a mad man deep into enemy territory?

He calmly walked back to the table where Tupper, Vivi and Dowes were at, picked up his tray and made his way to the door. "I've gotta talk to General Organa."

Poe arrived at the cantina just before nightfall and took the last open spot at the bar. He ordered a drink and kept his head down, hopeful that if he was still long enough, he would just fade into the crowd and no one would notice him. As the cantina grew busier and more crowded, he finally felt comfortable enough to look around.

The kitchen door swinging open caught his eye, and he looked over just in time to see Schala walk through. Her serving tray was full of drinks, and he watched her as she served three tables across the room from him. He saw her give a kind smile to the patrons at each table, but he could also see the same shyness in her that he noticed when they had met. She kept her head and her eyes down as if she were trying to garner as little attention as possible. He ordered a second drink as he watched her work, partly to kill his nerves and partly because he had no idea what to say to her.

General Organa had been as vague as Luke had been. She merely told Poe to follow Luke's command as her own. So here he was at the cantina, tasked with somehow convincing a near stranger (and possible First Order sympathizer) to come with him to the secret Resistance hideout. Easy, right? He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it, but he knew it was no joke.

Poe watched Schala as she went back and forth from the kitchen to the tables, and he took the time to study her features more closely. She might never be considered breathtaking, but she had a quiet beauty and gentleness that Poe found intriguing. He was used to women as pilots, fighters, Resistance leaders - all rough edges and self-confidence. Schala was clearly the opposite of that. There was a grace to her movements he had not noticed before - a grace that made him wonder if she had ever been more than a just waitress.

He soon finished his second drink, and he still had no idea how to even approach her, let alone get her to cooperate. He hated to consider it, but laying on the charm might be his only option. He remembered how nervous she had seemed around him, how a rosy blush warmed her cheeks, so he knew she was attracted to him.

He wondered if she found him attractive enough to be willing to go with him. He hated the idea of seducing her, but what other choice did he have? How else do you ask a stranger to accompany you to a secret hideout in the wilds of Scaros? As he saw it, his only other option would be to force her to come with him - essentially kidnap her - and that did not sit well with him. Working as a spy, he had done a lot of things he didn't like, but was he capable of kidnapping a woman?

He was startled from his thoughts by someone loudly placing a drink in front of him at the bar. Poe turned to see Quilp, the cantina owner, plopping down next to him.

"Hello again, my friend! Your cup looked empty, so I brought you another. This is the good stuff, not the swill you've been drinking." Quilp spoke loudly, so as to put on a show for everyone around them. Poe cringed inwardly. He had hoped to remain unnoticed and to avoid Quilp. "So how's that hovercraft I sold you?"

Poe took a quick sip of the drink Quilp offered, partly because he didn't want to seem suspicious and partly to calm his own nerves. "Not well, actually. It barely lasted the trip home before it broke down completely." Poe thought that complaining about the hovercraft purchase might make Quilp want to leave quickly.

The cantina owner instead laughed loudly. "Unfortunate for you, my friend, but that is the luck of the draw sometimes." He clapped Poe firmly on the back, and Poe had to grip the edge of the bar to keep his seat. Poe smiled weakly, raised the glass to Quilp, and downed the rest of the drink.

Now that Quilp had seen him, Poe figured it would be best to leave now and then try again tomorrow. He fished in his pockets for some Imperial credits, but couldn't remember which pocket he put the money in.

"Not so fast my friend. I think we have more business to discuss." Quilp motioned to the droid bartender, and another drink was placed in front of Poe.

Poe cocked an eyebrow at Quilp. "More business?"

"I couldn't help but notice your interest in another piece of my property." Quilp's voice remained very business-like, but his eyes narrowed at Poe.

After chugging that third drink, a feeling of drunkenness was starting to creep over Poe, and he found he couldn't think straight enough to figure out what Quilp was talking about. "What property is that?" He shook his head slowly as if that would clear his foggy brain. What was in the drink Quilp had given him?

Quilp nodded his head toward some tables in the back. Poe leaned to side of his stool to look around the bartender droid, and he saw Schala cleaning empty glasses off a table. As if she could tell something was going on between the two of them, Schala looked up and her eyes met Poe's. Poe knew he was inebriated and Schala was too far away, but it seemed to him that for a moment he could see the stark blue of her eyes and he could not look away.

Quilp moved in closer. "I'll repeat myself: I noticed your interest in another piece of my property." He grinned as he rubbed his greasy chin. " Schala is my property. I own her."

Poe's mind boggled for a moment as he took in Quilp's words. Schala ducked her head and disappeared as she carried her tray of empty glasses back into the kitchen. Quilp pushed the glass into Poe's hand and, even though he knew he shouldn't, Poe took another long drink. His brain was moving so slowly, he didn't notice that Quilp was perched over him, like a predator over his prey. At that particular moment, Poe would have given anything to be in the cockpit of his X-Wing, able to fly away from this place and into the freedom of hyperspace.

He doubted he would be able to make such a clean getaway tonight. Schala being a slave just made things way more complicated. It would've been hard enough to convince her to come with him (he was a stranger after all), but now he knew that she never had a choice in the matter anyway. Quilp was the one who decided when and where Schala went.

He felt a twinge of anger in his gut, anger that a grubby creature like Quilp owned Schala and had control over her. He told himself that it was just his protective instincts kicking in, his impatience with injustice. But now was not the time to get involved or to right the wrongs of the galaxy. He only needed Schala temporarily - the rest of her life was none of his business.

He took a deep breath to clear his head and calm his nerves, and then turned fully to Quilp, hoping he would be able to handle whatever was coming next. Surely, he could think on his feet and come up with something? Quilp turned fully to Poe as well, the sly smile slowly growing bigger on his face.

A/N: Sorry for not updating in forever. Real Life got in the way and kind of gave me writer's block. Things are finally calming down for me, so hopefully I'm at a place where I can write more and update more...if there is anyone left still interested in reading! ;-)


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars. I, in fact, own very little, so I hope the real owners don't mind me having a little fun with their creations.

As always, reviews are most welcome – but please be gentle. Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 6

Schala stood at the edge of the trade district with her head down to hide her tear stained face. A worn, brown duffel bag was on the ground next to her, filled with her sparse belongings. Tears fell freely, but she remained silent and still.

She could still hear Quilp's voice in her head telling her the bad news: he had sold her last night. He said it so matter-of-factly that he could have been talking about a hovercraft instead of a human being. He didn't even try to break the news softly. He simply told her to pack up her things and be ready to be traded off in a few hours. She supposed in his eyes the details didn't matter to her because she was just chattel exchanging hands anyway.

Schala knew that as a slave she didn't have a say in the matter anyway, so instead of fighting it, she obeyed. It worried her that she didn't even try to resist or argue, and she wondered if her years in slavery had finally broken her free will. Here she was, obediently waiting for her new master at the agreed upon location, at the agreed upon time. Had it been so long since she'd had the freedom to make a choice on her own that she had lost the ability to chose?

Quilp had a habit of threatening to get rid of her whenever he was mad, but strangely she had hoped he would not. As rough as he could be, Schala knew she was lucky to find an owner who only marginally mistreated her. There were so many worse situations out there for Imperial slaves, and her heart sank as she wondered if that would be her fate now too.

Her life had been predictable, even monotonous for years. Just last night, she and Rizy had been together laughing at the night's most ridiculous customers, and Rizy had resumed teasing Schala about "Brown Eyes", the man who bought the hovercraft and who suddenly seemed to enjoy spending hours at the Ark. Rizy had talked to him briefly, got lost in what she called "his dreamy brown eyes" and had pestered Schala with theories about him the entire night. Schala laughed off all the teasing off, but that didn't stop her from going to sleep dreaming about "Brown Eyes."

Oh, what a difference a day makes. It was only a few hours later, and she stood out in the open, exposed, waiting for a man who had bought her - who owned her in the eyes of the First Order. She shivered slightly at the thought that someone had approached Quilp about buying her, like she was something on the cantina's menu, and now that man was coming to take possession of her. Schala wiped her face with her hands and took a few calming breaths. Crying wouldn't change her fate and it certainly couldn't help her. New masters could be unpredictable, and she needed focus to be ready for what was next.

Out of the fog of her mind, she registered that someone had called her name, so she turned her head expecting to see Rizy. Schala hadn't had a chance to say goodbye to her friend, and she hoped the girl would find some way to come see her one last time. To Schala's surprise, though, it wasn't Rizy coming toward her, it was Brown Eyes! Schala couldn't believe her bad luck. Of all the ways she daydreamed about running to him, while waiting for her new master was not one of them.

He approached her in wide, confident steps, his curly hair more disheveled than she had seen it before. His dust-colored jacket and pants looked wrinkled, as if he had slept in his clothes. As he came closer, Schala could see he looked more care-worn and less friendly than before, with dark circles under his eyes and no trace of his charming smile. He looked as if he'd had a rough night.

If circumstances were different, she might have dared to ask him what was wrong, but with a new owner who could show up at any time, she was not interested in a long conversation with Brown Eyes. What if her new owner was gross, or had tentacles or ooze, or was a hutt? How embarrassing it would be to be carted off like a pack animal in front of Brown Eyes. She was aware that her own face was probably red and puffy from crying, and she felt a pang of embarrassment.

Brown Eyes came to a stop next to Schala, and neither of them spoke for a beat. She looked up at him expectantly, waiting for him to speak first. He held her gaze for a moment, keeping his face neutral. Schala searched his namesake brown eyes, but she couldn't tell what thoughts were going on behind them.

Finally, he shoved his hands into his jacket and said quietly, "Let's go." His voice sounded hoarse and rougher than she remembered.

"Go where?" she asked, confusion evident in her voice.

"Where isn't important. Just follow me." He turned to go, looking over his shoulder to see if she was coming too. She was not.

"I can't," she said softly. She so terribly wished she could leave, could just run away and never look back. That it was Brown Eyes asking her to go made it even more tempting. But death was the penalty for runaway slaves in the First Order, so it just wasn't an option.

"What do you mean?" Brown Eyes asked, clearly surprised at her response.

"I'm waiting for someone," Schala answered back, suddenly ashamed to say any more. Why did Brown Eyes make her feel self-conscious about her status as a slave? It wasn't like slaves were uncommon in the First Order.

Her heart was growing heavy with so many conflicting emotions, and she hoped he would take her simple answer and go. Running into him had momentarily taken her mind off her present circumstances, but she could feel the pressure starting to build again. Any minute now, she would be forced into a new, unknown life. She really didn't want Brown Eyes to be a spectator of that moment.

"Who," the man asked.

Why couldn't he be one of those strangers who minded his own business just for once? "I'm waiting for my new employer," she said, her voice raw with emotion. "My new master," she added quietly, and then bowed her head.

Brown Eyes was quiet for a moment, but he didn't leave. Schala wondered what he must be thinking - did he pity her or find her disgusting? - but she couldn't bring herself to look up. "That would be me," the man replied, matching her tone and quietness.

Schala's head shot up, and she looked at him with wide eyes. He at least had the courtesy to look apologetic. "You?" She pointed forcefully at him. "You are the one who bought me from Quilp?" she quizzed, her tone more accusatory than she meant it to be.

He nodded, a slightly uncomfortable look on his face. "I'm surprised Quilp didn't mention it was me." He paused and smiled ruefully for a moment, "Okay, maybe not that surprised." He raised a hand to rub the back of his neck. "I'm sorry to spring this on you like this. I thought for sure Quilp would at least tell you who you were meeting." He pinched the bridge of his nose and briefly closed his eyes. "I'm sorry about this whole thing actually..." He trailed off, but kept his mouth open, as if he were debating whether or not to say more.

Brown Eyes glanced up and down the street and said to her with a little urgency in his voice, "Maybe we should discuss this somewhere else." He motioned to the ground and asked, "Would you like me to carry your bag?"

So many thoughts were running through her head at the same time, Schala wasn't even sure what to focus on. She didn't even know his name, and now he was her master? Where was he taking her? He didn't have a transport with him, so did that mean it was nearby? Did he own multiple slaves? What kind of work did they do? And the strangest question of all: Why would someone who bought a slave be kind enough to carry that slave's bag?

When she didn't respond, Brown Eyes just leaned over and picked up her bag. "This way," he said, as if trying to urge her to move with his voice. To Schala it seemed like he was uncomfortable out in the open, as if he didn't want to be seen. Could he be in some kind of illegal business? Did that mean she would be involved too?

Suddenly, Rizy's teasing from the other night came to mind. Rizy had joked that the man had been stalking her, which at the time Schala thought was completely ridiculous. Could Rizy have been right after all? As crazy as it sounded, she couldn't ignore the fact that this man had shown up everywhere she was lately. Was it possible that it had not been a coincidence? Could he be more dangerous than she realized?

Even at their first meeting Schala had felt something was off about him, like he had been hiding something. That she kept running into him made her even more suspicious. And now, inexplicably, she found herself as the man's possession? Her heart began racing in her chest and she was having trouble keeping her breath even. She had a feeling that going with this man would be risky, probably even dangerous. "I don't think I want to go anywhere with you," she found herself saying as she backed away from him, arms outstretched as if to keep him at bay.

The man's face darkened and some of the warmth left his eyes, which only made her heart beat faster. "I'm not going to hurt you. Come with me, and I will explain everything. Just not here."

"Why don't you explain it to me now and then I decide." Even though the street was deserted, she had no desire to leave the safety of the public area. Schala spotted a droid patrol walking past on a crosstreet, and she moved forward intending to grab its attention. Unfortunately, moving forward also brought her closer to Brown Eyes, and before she could react, he reached a strong arm out, spun her around and pinned her arms to her side. His other hand quickly covered her mouth, and he pulled her close so that her back hit his chest. She tried to wrench herself out of his hold, but he only held her tighter as he dragged her to the nearest alley.

His grip was like a vice, his chest like a solid wall behind her, and for all her struggling she couldn't get free. He drug her back to the darkest part of the alley before he finally let her go, but he maneuvered himself so that he blocked her only exit. The only way out was past him.

Her breathing came out in ragged gasps as she looked at him with wide eyes. He gestured with hands open in front of him and said, "Listen to me. This is not what you think. I'm not going to hurt you. I just need you to come with me."

Come with him? For what? Why did he keep saying that? Schala's mind started filling with horrible images, horror stories she had heard of slave girls never heard from again. "I'm not going anywhere with you. Please...please...just take me back to the Ark," Schala pleaded, unable to keep the fear from her voice. Brown Eyes did not seem so handsome to her now. He looked dark, dangerous. She could see the tension coiled tightly in his body.

Brown Eyes fumbled in his coat pocket, and Schala's heart sank as she saw him pull out the device that controlled her slave collar. Quilp must have turned it over to the man at his purchase. "Please just come with me. I can explain everything if you give me a chance." Schala wondered why he bothered asking. With that device, the man could make her obey him, and they both knew it.

She kept moving further away from the man until her back hit the far wall of the alley, but Brown Eyes matched her movement, never letting the distance between them grow. She frantically looked around, but there was no where else for her to go.

"Please don't make me use this," he said, more steel in his voice now. Clearly, he was not going to play this game for much longer. He held up the control device.

Rationally, Schala knew there was nothing she could do. Even if she managed to get someone's attention, the man in front of her was her master. He had every right to do whatever he wanted and she had no rights at all. But she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something very wrong with the man, that he was hiding a big secret that she did not want to be a part of, and so she dashed forward, hoping that she could somehow brush past the man and run out into freedom. Brown Eye's reflexes were much faster than she could have predicted, and she barely made a step forward before the man hit a button, causing an electric current to burst from her collar.

Schala cried out in pain as the force of the electric shock made her fall to her knees. It had been so long since she'd gotten a shock from her collar, she had forgotten how painful they were. Instinctively, she raised her hands to her neck as if she could pull the collar off, but all that did was cause her fingertips to tingle and burn too.

It could have been a lack of sleep, lack of food, worn nerves, or a combination of it all, but black dots started swimming at the corners of her eyes as the pain overtook her. She rolled onto her back, feeling herself weaken. She knew she would lose consciousness soon, which meant that she had lost this fight. When she woke up, it would be to her new fate.

The last thing she saw was Brown Eyes standing over her, the corners of his mouth turned down in a frown. "I'm sorry," he said. "I really never wanted to hurt you." She couldn't keep her eyes open as she started drifting off into the dark. She felt the man gently sweep her hair across her forehead and then she was lifted up, shifted to his shoulder, and then she was asleep.

* * *

A/N: Thank you again for the reviews and for sticking with me! Sorry if my writing is a bit rusty, but I haven't written in so long I'm still trying to get warmed up! I'm hoping to get my groove back soon. I'm not 100% happy with my two new chapters, so I plan to go back and fix them later. For now, I just want to focus on telling more of the story. I hope you enjoy! :-)


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